


Worth a Thousand Words

by Kantayra of Yore (Kantayra)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-04
Updated: 2003-03-03
Packaged: 2017-10-21 01:02:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra%20of%20Yore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After 'Grave', Buffy watches through the Trio's old tapes and discovers a new side to Spike that she had never realized existed... A sad fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fractured Joy

Fifteen days.

It had been fifteen days now since Willow and Giles had gone back to England. Fifteen days since the apocalypse had been averted. Fifteen days to recover from all that had happened. That was over two weeks. It was more than she’d been given after her mom had died. So, that meant that it had to be enough.

With a weary sigh, Buffy got out of bed, ready to do...something productive. She’d only left the house in the past two weeks to dish out the horrors of Doublemeat hell and do a few quick patrols. She was neglecting her duties, she knew. It just seemed like her chores were mounting up into this huge, insurmountable pile... Which probably meant she should use this – her lovely day off – to cut back on the sheer magnitude of tasks that had to be done. She checked her list.

    _Grout bathtub..._ No.  
    _Help clean out Magic Box..._ No.  
    _Check Spike’s crypt..._ A world of no.

Buffy shuddered inwardly and read on.

    _Remove all those video files the Trio have of us online..._

Buffy rolled her eyes. Shortly before Willow had gone off the deep end, she’d discovered that the three nerds had taken the more entertaining recordings they’d gotten from their secret surveillance equipment and put it up on their website. Fortunately, pre-evil Willow had hacked their password and begun removing the more inappropriate files. But then disaster had struck, and all the videos of Buffy changing and Willow and Dawn arguing and Xander and Anya doing NC17 things in all sorts of public places had remained online.

Buffy decided she _really_ should do something about that. She briefly checked to make sure that her memories of just what she personally had seen on those tapes weren’t too painful. They weren’t; a whole new pain had taken its place.

“Deleting Nerd Central it is,” Buffy muttered under her breath, turning on Willow’s computer. Luckily, the ex-Witch had given her detailed instructions on how to do absolutely _everything_. Otherwise Buffy would’ve been baffled the instant she opened the Trio’s page.

She had no technical difficulty now, though, merely an emotional dilemma. Most of the lewd videos were likely to be on Warren’s page, she knew. However, she couldn’t quite stomach the idea of dealing with Warren’s sleaziness...especially since he was dead now. Jonathan’s page... Well, to tell the truth, she still felt a bit betrayed by Jonathan. After all, he had handed her that Class Protector award...and then come back to try and kill her. That left Andrew’s page. She had barely ever even figured out who Andrew was. Andrew was safe. She clicked on the link.

Instantly, her room was bombarded by the Star Wars empire theme, and Andrew, dressed in Darth Vader gear sans helmet (yeah, right...), appeared on the screen. Buffy searched frantically for a way to stop the music and finally had to settle for yanking the speakers out of their jack.

She breathed a sigh of relief when blessed silence greeted her ears. “Why me?” she sighed aloud before searching down Andrew’s video list.

He seemed to have it divided into sections. Buffy clicked on ‘Monkeys and Demon Slaying’, partially because it was first on the list and partially because she couldn’t even _begin_ to guess what the category meant. A dozen or so video files appeared on the screen. She plugged the speakers back in and clicked the first one before sitting back curiously as the video began to play.

It was Xander, Willow, Tara, and Anya all sitting in the Magic Box, doing research. There were a few trades of books, and then suddenly Xander pointed to the page before him.

“I’ve got it!” he exclaimed.

Willow leaned over his shoulder to look at it. “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle...”

The video ended.

Buffy blinked. OK, that was _weird_... She clicked on the second video.

Xander was in his apartment reading the newspaper while Anya dug through the fridge.

“What about _Planet of the Apes_?” Xander asked, obviously perusing the movie listings.

“Nah,” Anya said. “A remake of a movie about monkeys?”

The video cut off.

Buffy had a sinking suspicion about what the category meant. She clicked on the next video.

Again in the Magic Box. “Oh, for cryin’ out...!” Spike complained, rolling his eyes at Xander. “Even a _monkey_ could figure this out!”

End clip.

Buffy shuddered. It was true. Andrew really _had_ taken every instance where one of them had used the word ‘monkey’ and put them all together in a video library. She shivered. That was really, _really_ scary. Make that really, _really_ , _reeeally_ scary. Who had time to do that sort of crap, anyway?

Deciding that the monkey category was probably safe from anything of a pornographic nature – or, at least, she _hoped_ so – she went back and checked the next category.

“Star Trekkin’?” She really didn’t want to know, did she?

Reluctantly, she clicked on the first video to find that Andrew had stuck the Scooby Gang’s heads on the bodies of the original Star Trek cast and made them act out classic Star Trek episodes. Buffy got just one look at her with Captain Kirk’s paunch and quickly deleted the entire library.

“Who would actually _watch_ any of this crap?” she grumbled to herself as she went down the list of categories quickly.

Nothing caught her eye until she reached the very bottom of the list. The last category. ‘Spike is a God.’

A feeling of dread came over her, but she clicked on it anyway, her finger moving on the mouse of its own accord. Several still-shots of Spike in various stages of undress greeted her eyes.

“Always suspected he had a thing for Spike,” she felt obliged to comment. She bit her lower lip. While Spike was the one of them _least_ likely to object to having nude pictures of himself running about the Internet, she still felt guilty just leaving them there. “You _so_ owe me for this,” she informed a picture of Spike sitting naked atop his sarcophagus.

She absentmindedly tried to place where the camera would be in his crypt. They hadn’t managed to find this one yet, and Buffy groaned at the thought of having to track down _another_ stupid camera...

And how had they gotten it in his crypt, anyway? They were all scared shitless of Spike. She was amazed they had even set foot in his _cemetery_ , let alone his crypt. They’d probably summoned some demon or other to do it for them. In fact, now that she thought about it, hadn’t Spike been complaining about something messing around in his home a while back?

And just how long had that camera been there? Buffy’s face immediately paled. She _so_ did not need to have the Buffy/Spike Sexcapades 2002 broadcast for all the world to see. Hell, she was _still_ mortified from having to confess to all her friends...

“Can’t delete fast enough...” she muttered under her breath.

And then something on the screen caught her eye. It was the first video file, only these we all clearly labeled. In bold black letters were the words ‘First Kiss with Buffy.’

Buffy groaned. They had a camera in the alley outside the Magic Box, too? She figured she’d better watch the damn thing just to figure out where this newest camera was. She clicked on the video...and came up with something other than she had been expecting...

The shot was still that of Spike’s crypt. She watched, puzzled for a minute, as Clem dug around in Spike’s pile of movies. What, had this video been mislabeled or something?

But then Spike appeared on the small screen, and her questions were answered.

Clem looked up as Spike entered, humming the song he’d sung to her – she recognized the tune.

“Uh-oh,” Clem shifted nervously. “You’re not going to start singing, are you?”

It took Spike a moment to realize that Clem was there and had just asked him a question. He had a rather dazed smile on his face and had to shake his head a few times before he could respond. “Huh?”

“I asked if you were going to start singing,” Clem looked curious about the completely happy look on his vampire friend’s face.

“Oh no,” Spike batted one hand in the air dismissively, “took care ‘f the demon, spell’s over, yadda-yadda-yadda.” He abruptly vaulted over the back of the couch, causing it – and Clem – to bounce when he landed on the far end.

“We still on for the ‘Cops’ marathon then?” Clem asked, studying Spike as if he were some strange form of alien life.

Spike had zoned out again, humming to himself, wide grin still plastered all across his face. “Huh? What?” He belatedly realized what the question was. “Oh...yeah, sure...”

Clem gave him a quizzical glance. “OK,” he finally demanded, “I’ll bite. What’s up?”

“Up?” Spike tried to look like nothing was unusual and failed miserably. “What makes you think something’s up?” On the floor, his foot was doing a little happy dance.

Clem stared at it pointedly. “That, for one. Also, you’re... _smiling_.”

Spike noticed his treacherous foot for the first time. He cocked his head to one side, as if debating whether or not to reign in its enthusiasm. He decided to let it be happy. “I smile,” he finally countered almost childishly.

“Yeah, you smile,” Clem agreed, “in exactly one circumstance. What’s the Slayer done now? Said ‘thank you’ again, I’ll bet...”

Spike bit his lower lip and looked down, obviously debating what to say. He finally couldn’t hold his excitement in anymore. “You’ll never guess,” he finally announced, the smile on his face spreading as he closed his eyes to remember...

“You’re right, I won’t,” Clem agreed, “unless you—”

“She kissed me!” Spike exclaimed, his voice sounding slightly awed.

“—tell me,” Clem finished. Then blinked. “What?” He shook his floppy ears, making sure he heard right.

“Buffy kissed me,” Spike leaned back with a sigh. “See, I was all worried, what with I hadn’t meant to pressure her after she got pulled outta ‘eaven an’ all, and then that stupid spell made me sing about it, so I though she, y’know, would be mad an’ stop hangin’ around, but...” He trailed off with another happy little sigh.

“She _kissed_ you?” Clem still couldn’t believe it. “The _Slayer_? You’re sure that spell wasn’t affecting her mind or something? Like that one time you told me about...”

“Red’s engagement spell,” Spike remembered fondly, “Best day ‘f my unlife...until the Witch went an’ reversed it, that is...”

“What?!” Buffy exclaimed, still watching the screen in front of her. Spike had actually _enjoyed_ their engagement spell? She hadn’t known that. Why hadn’t she known that? He should’ve told her, after all. And just how long _had_ he been carrying the torch for her anyway?

“—But there was no spittin’ in disgust afterwards this time,” Spike finished on screen, talking right through Buffy’s little outburst. “She just kinda smiled – y’know, in that real sweet way she’s got? – an’ said she ‘ad to go get the Nibblet home. She _smiled_ at me... Don’ think ‘ve ever been so happy!”

“Well...congratulations,” Clem still seemed a bit confused about Spike’s account, “gotta admit, even _I_ didn’t see that one coming. I mean, she sure didn’t seem to be harboring any hidden feelings when you brought her to poker night...”

“She hides stuff a lot,” Spike said with a soft smile,” buries it deep down inside – ‘specially when there’s other people around. But I can still see ‘er, see the real Buffy...an’ I love her so much...”

Clem rolled his eyes at the oft-heard speech. “Gee, I never would’ve guessed,” he teased.

Spike managed to give him an annoyed look for one tenth of a second before the smile took over his face again. “Sometimes, even I ‘ad my doubts,” he confessed softly. “I mean, she’s been warmin’ to me lately an’ all, but...she’s so closed off. Even I wasn’t sure until she...” Another love-struck sigh. “She was so _warm_. An’ soft. An’ strong. An’ ‘er mouth was so sweet, and the way she wrapped ‘er arms around my neck... It was a _real_ kiss, Clem! No quick peck ‘f gratitude this time, no spells... A real, hands in my hair, desperate, tender, open-mouthed kiss! Oh, the way her tongue—!”

“TMI,” Clem immediately interrupted him.

Spike’s cheeks flushed a little. “Right. Sorry,” he agreed. “But, ‘s just... She was in my arms! My Slayer, my love in my arms!”

“Well,” Clem commented, “you deserve it after all you’ve been through.”

Spike let out a wry little chuckle at that. “Kinda thought she hadn’t really noticed,” he admitted sheepishly. “I mean, I know that she knows ‘d do anythin’ for the Bit. But I din’t think she got just how much carin’ for her changed me, y’know? ‘S like my whole world’s different now. Can’t go back to bein’ like I was...not now that I care ‘bout everythin’ she does. I mean, I used ta be able to kill without a thought. An’ now... I can’t even _think_ about hurtin’ a human without feelin’ guilty ‘cause it would ‘urt her...”

“You’re a kept demon,” Clem agreed with a chuckle.

Spike made an offended little noise but then turned back to smiling again. “Think she’s back home by now?” he suddenly asked excitedly. “Think I should go see ‘er?” He leapt up.

“If you just got here, she’s probably not home,” Clem pointed out. “Plus, you don’t want to crowd her too much...”

“Right,” Spike agreed, plopping back down on the battered sofa. “Should prob’ly just wait for her to come to me...” He managed to hold that resolve for all of two seconds. “When d’you think she’ll come by?” he asked impatiently.

Clem sighed at his friend’s infamous impatience. “It might be a while,” he said carefully. “She might not be quite as... _gung-ho_ as you are. This is all new to her, after all. And she probably doesn’t feel quite the same way you do...”

“Maybe not yet,” Spike conceded reluctantly, “but...she has to know how much tonight meant to me. She wouldn’t’ve done that if she wasn’t already most ‘f the way there, right? Not unless she was willin’ to give it a real go... So that means she’ll wanna come by soon, talk things over...”

Inwardly, Buffy cringed. At about this point, she recalled, she had been trying to forget the whole thing had ever happened. She hadn’t been thinking about him or his feelings or how he had changed when she kissed him. She’d just been thinking about herself and how she would do _anything_ to make the pain inside go away – even for the one minute their lips had met.

“Which means you should calm down,” Clem answered Spike on the monitor, “watch some television, take your mind off of things. You don’t want to be this high-strung when she comes by, given how sensitive she is since she came back...”

“You’re right,” Spike nodded. “Absolutely right. Pop in that tape there.”

Clem chuckled slightly at the vampire’s abrupt mood swings and inserted the tape.

Spike’s smile returned a few seconds in, however, and he looked back at the door twice in five seconds.

Buffy bit her lip. She hadn’t come to him. She’d avoided him. It had taken him a full week to track her down, and even then she’d refused to discuss it with him.

The video froze as it reached the end, a picture of Spike smiling brightly on the screen. Unconsciously, her finger reached out to touch the image...

Buffy felt her eyes tear up at the hopeful expression on his face. He hadn’t smiled like that for long, not when he found out how she really felt. And it was such a beautiful smile, too. He had these cute little dimples, and Buffy had never even noticed them before...probably because she’d never really seen him happy before...

She felt an abrupt pang of loss at her sure knowledge that that smile would fade, never to return. To her horror, she found that there was a tear falling from her eye. She tried to sniff it back, but it was no good. Every time she thought about how happy and...innocent Spike appeared to be on the video, and then remembered what he’d become...

“Why?” she whispered softly, amidst open sobs now. “Why’d you love me, you idiot? Why couldn’t you see that I was just using you? Why did you have to let me break you heart?”

It was a while before she composed herself enough to turn the monitor off. She didn’t have the heart to delete the file...or to continue watching the movies for today.


	2. Hope Undying

One month.

One whole month since she’d last turned on that stupid computer and noticed for the first time just how beautiful Spike’s smile really was. It wasn’t that she was avoiding the videos, per se...or, say, going to his crypt to find that last camera. It was just that...

She racked her brain for an excuse and came up short. So, OK, yeah, she was avoiding it. But who wouldn’t, really?

It was like watching the happy beginning to Romeo and Juliet where you couldn’t even take the remotest satisfaction in all the sweet lovey parts because in the back of your mind you knew just how terribly it would all turn out. Not that she was comparing herself and Spike to Romeo and Juliet...

Spike probably did think of her as his Juliet, she decided now that she thought about it. But no way was he her Romeo. No way, no how... Nevertheless, she suddenly had the irrational urge to hear him talk about her that way. Just to hear someone say those words...

That, and she had nothing else to do. Dammit, why had she used up her last, best excuse and grouted the bathtub last week?!

More nervously than she would ever willingly admit, she returned to Andrew’s page...

So, she’d already seen the First Kiss video. What else was there? She clicked on video number two. And blinked.

OK, yeah, so Spike had a gorgeous body. But how absolutely creepy was it that Andrew had put a video of him walking around his crypt naked up for all the world to see?

The video came to an abrupt end when Spike found his pants underneath the armchair – Buffy didn’t even want to think about how they’d gotten there...although, thankfully the date at the bottom of the screen indicated that she hadn’t been involved.

She moved to delete the video and paused... OK, so it was probably amoral beyond belief, but... She saved a copy to the computer before deleting the online file. Hey, she’d already seen it up close and in person, so what harm was there in her watching it?

Thin. Very thin, her mind scolded her.

She found the best way to ignore it was to watch video three. Spike was clothed in this one, which was a relief in and of itself. The title of the video had been ‘Talking’, so Buffy turned the volume back on even though she couldn’t quite guess who Spike would be talking with.

He was alone in his crypt, the light outside clearly indicating that it was daytime. He paced back and forth a few times, obviously agitated. He paused briefly on several occasions, only to return to his pacing. Buffy was just about bored enough to stop this video and try the next when he suddenly spoke.

“I love you.” His voice sounded ragged, pained, distraught... This was more the Spike she was used to. She continued to watch.

“No,” he clutched at his hair, chiding himself. “You’ll scare ‘er right off with that...” He composed himself for a second before turning back to the stone angel he’d addressed earlier. He took one deep breath and let it out with a long sigh.

“Buffy, we need to talk...” he began again.

“No, no, no...tried that last time....”

He tried again. “Oi, Slayer.”

Buffy couldn’t help but giggle when he hit himself in the head for the idiocy of that last one before clutching his forehead in pain and exclaiming “ow!” a few times. She’d never known that Spike practiced his conversations with her. It was actually kind of...cute. Less ultra-slick, seductive vampire and more shy, ordinary guy.

“Buffy...” he began again onscreen. He trailed off dumbly. “Bloody hell!” He proceeded to kick over his armchair and curse inventively under his breath.

“Slayer!” he abruptly exclaimed, turning on the statue with such fiery intensity that for a moment the real Buffy feared for its safety. His voice immediately softened, however. “Buffy, pet, luv... I know that things ‘aven’t been right with you lately, and...”

He took a deep, unnecessary breath to calm himself. “There’s somethin’ ‘ve gotta tell you, luv. Not ‘us’-related,” he assured the angel statue quickly, “’s about how you came back an’... Buffy, when I hit you, my chip din’t go off. And, yes, ‘s still working!” he insisted immediately. “Jus’ doesn’t seem to work on you, pet. I-I think it ‘as somethin’ to do with Red’s spell, or...”

He paused, cocking his head to one side as if imagining what she would say to that. Buffy somewhat guiltily recalled that her response had been a fist to the nose...although, in all fairness, he hadn’t said it this nicely.

“You’re still Buffy, luv,” he finally said in a voice so soft that she could barely hear it. “Everythin’ about you, everythin’ that I l—” he shook his head and started over again, “everythin’ that makes you you...’s still there. You might not see it, but I do, an’...”

He bit his lip in a worrying way that she had never seen before. It made him look younger somehow – a leftover habit from childhood perhaps. Huh, Spike was a child once... She’d never really had that thought before. The image of a scrawny little boy with big, wide blue eyes and – inexplicably – platinum-blond hair shone in her mind’s eye. It really was the most adorable picture...

“You’re not anythin’ less because ‘f it, Buffy,” he continued in a pleading voice. “Please, don’ believe that... If anythin’, after where you’ve been an’ all...” He ducked his head shyly, embarrassed even though she wasn’t really there to hear him. “...At least, to me...I mean, I don’ really know ‘bout this stuff but...well, I think that maybe you’re somethin’ more...”

Oh yeah, his cheeks were definitely red now. She absentmindedly wondered how that was possible since he didn’t have any circulation.

“You’re everything to me, Buffy.” His voice was more formal now, more cultured. “I know you don’t like me to talk about it, how I feel about you, but... I just wanted you to know that I’d do anything for you. And I mean that. Just tell me that you don’t want...” His eyes actually teared up at this point, and he furiously wiped them away before speaking again.

“’ve waited a long time for you,” he said simply then, “without any hope. I can wait even longer again, now that ‘ve got it. So, ‘f you need some time, wanna put this thing between us on hold for a bit... Whatever you want, luv, jus’ say the word,” he finished lamely.

He righted his armchair then and collapsed into it, looking as exhausted as if he’d just dusted a dozen vampires. He sat there for quite some time, just staring at the statue. “My angel,” he finally added softly.

“S-Spike...” she managed to get out before she realized that he wasn’t even really there to hear her. The frozen final frame of the video shone on the screen as if mocking her with its complete lack of ability to respond.

She flung the laptop closed with an annoyed snap, before raging about the house a couple of times. Half the pots on the bottom shelf had been rescrubbed before she finally managed to put words to the emotions that were flooding through her. Her task left unfinished, she stalked back upstairs and reactivated the picture of exhausted-Spike.

“You’re lying!” she hissed angrily, her fists clenched at her sides. “You never gave me a chance to go back! You...” Offered to meet me on reasonable terms, but I refused and then... “You attacked me!” she turned to her last, best defense. “Tried to rape me! And then you left me, Spike.” An unwanted sob choked in her throat at this. “I needed you, and you weren’t here, and...how could you leave me like that?”

The still screen gave her no answers.

“You don’t love,” she insisted as confidently as she could manage...which wasn’t very much. “How can you possibly love me after all that you’ve done?” After I used you, broke your heart, ruined your life, destroyed everything that was good in your world... “Y-You’re a demon, a-and soulless. And you can’t love without a soul b-because Angelus...” Didn’t love me.

It was a while before she could speak again, although her mind firmly insisted that she had not been crying, contrary to all physical evidence. “You don’t love me; you can’t. You’re lying. Y-You’re not going to trick me...” Because, yeah, he knew there was a camera planted in his crypt and that you would eventually see the tapes, her rational mind retorted sarcastically.

“So, what do you say to that?” she finished lamely.

The screen didn’t move, of course. Frustrated, she clicked on the next video available...and her face paled.

She and Spike were naked atop the stone sarcophagus, their bodies intimately intertwined. Her own moans and Spike’s growls filled the room, and instantly the real Buffy felt her entire body grow hot...and not just from embarrassment. A part of her just wanted to turn the damn thing off while another part watched in rapt fascination.

Their little affair had never been gentle – that was for sure – and this instance was no different than the others, but... The more she watched them, the more the subtle differences popped out to her.

Her hands merely gripped his shoulders, occasionally digging her sharp nails deep into his back. His glided along her skin, touching the places he had always instinctively known would bring her the most pleasure.

Her lips were hard and bruising whenever they touched him at all. His were reverent, passionate, tender...while hard and desperate at the same time.

Her eyes avoided him the entire; she’d often done that when they were together – just focused on the pleasure and tried to ignore who was giving her that pleasure. His never left her face, all his love for her plain for her to see if only she’d look...

In short, while he was fucking her, he was making love to her with an artistry so fine and subtle that she hadn’t even recognized it...because she certainly would have put an end to it if she had. He’d undoubtedly learned his lesson that first night in the abandoned house when she’d threatened to leave him desperate and wanting if he continued to try to bring gentleness and softer emotions to their mating...

The pair onscreen realized their pleasure with twin cries – hers merely a generic exclamation, his her name.

She had known that he was very vocal during sex and had discouraged it because...well, quite frankly, there were three words that he was rather fond of saying that she just couldn’t stand to hear while she was treating him like he was nothing. But at that one last moment, not even she had been heartless enough to force him to hold back.

And, right now, she was actually kind of glad she hadn’t. Just to hear someone say her name like that – with such awe, such devotion, such...love...

She tried to remember if Angel or Riley had ever said her name that way and discovered, to her horror, that she couldn’t. All the images her mind could conjure now were of a certain peroxide blond pest and the various inappropriate things they had done together over the past winter.

She immediately railed against the erotic images, using the most effective counter-memory she had: that last night in her bathroom.

Its effectiveness wasn’t half what it used to be, however. The memory seemed faded, almost unreal, whereas after watching Spike make love to her...that seemed very real indeed, and incredibly overpowering.

She absentmindedly remembered one of Maggie Walsh’s old lectures on the topic of perception and memory. How more recent perceptions distorted memories, essentially rewriting the past to fit the present view...

The idea had scared her at the time and did still. Just the very thought that what was the clear, obvious truth to her now could shift over time, transform even into the exact opposite of what had been... It meant that nothing was absolute, not even good and evil. And that was terrifying. It could collapse her entire worldview if she let it; so she didn’t.

But then she was forced to accept the fact that, attempted rape and all, Spike hadn’t been half-bad. Spike had loved her, cared about her, only wanted...

The Buffy on the video had immediately fallen asleep after their exertions. Spike was still awake, though.

Cautiously, as if afraid she would wake up and he’d be caught, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her up against his chest in her sleep. He stroked her hair gently a few times before planting a soft kiss right on her hairline. His other arm slipped around her waist in that way that always made her fell safe and comforted.

“I love you.” He whispered to her in her sleep what she would never allow him to say when she was awake. “I love you so much, Buffy. Can’t you see that? You try to drive me away, but I won’t let you. I won’t let you turn me into the others. I won’t let you turn me back into a monster.” He bit back a ragged sob.

“Please,” he pleaded softly, nuzzling her hair as he did so, “’s so hard to do this alone... Please, Buffy, just let me be a man for you...”

The sleeping form beside him didn’t answer.

And he couldn’t hear the present Buffy’s whispered “yes”...


	3. What Ifs

Two more weeks.

When she added it up, it had now been two months since Everything Changed. But, in the past two weeks, her mind had been preoccupied with only one thing – Spike’s plea to her sleeping, uncaring former self.

She knew it was wrong. Everything that had ever screamed out that she could never allow herself to care for him was still there, but muted now. It got quieter every night, every time she listened to his impassioned sobs, and now things had gotten so bad that…

Well, she couldn’t fall asleep without first hearing him say that he loved her, for one. She could admit that to herself now, even if she could never say it aloud. She’d never realized before how much she needed those words, even if they only came from him... Is that why she had prevented him for saying them? So that she wouldn’t start feeling like _this_?

And something fundamental had changed within her. She could feel it. Abstractly, she always would’ve said that Spike was a person, even back in his evil vampire days. There had always been too much beyond the killer to just dismiss him as a cold, unthinking monster.

But she’d never actually _felt_ for him before. She’d never seen just how human he could really be, never allowed the vestiges of the man – of the _good_ man – he’d once been come together for her. She’d never seen him smile, cry, laugh, beg… Or, if she had, she’d ignored it.

It made beating up on him, insulting him, treating him like he was nothing all too difficult.

 _Which maybe would’ve been a good thing_ , she grimaced inwardly. It was funny. She’d never really bothered to notice how far Spike had come until the incident in her bathroom. In that moment, suddenly everything had come crashing down and she’d realized that she _had_ trusted him, had believed in his love, had…cared about him. And then it was all gone before she’d even bothered to grasp it.

“Buffy!” Dawn waved one hand in front of her face. “Are you still awake?”

Buffy yawned and turned on the living room couch to face her sister. “Hmm?” she asked wearily.

“Maybe you should go to bed or something,” the younger Summers suggested, digging around at the bottom of the bowl and shoving the popcorn she retrieved into her mouth. “You’ve been out of it all day…”

“Yeah,” Buffy sighed, leaning her head back against the cushions and trying not to think about how severely fucked up everything always was in her love life. _Ever think that maybe you’re partly to blame for that, too?_ A nasty inner voice added. She shook her head and moved to go upstairs. “Don’t stay up too late,” she instructed her sister.

Dawn rolled her eyes. “It’s summer vacation,” she complained. “I can stay up as long as I want to…”

Buffy didn’t bother contradicting her statement – first of all, because it actually wouldn’t do her sister any harm to stay up all night watching movies; and, second, because the computer upstairs was slowly beckoning her…

She locked the door behind her and hooked in the headphones so Dawn couldn’t interfere before she continued to explore Spike’s unintentional diary.

With an expression mixed between outraged disgust (at Andrew), hot desire (due to the eroticism of the images on screen), and mild bemusement (at what Spike would _do_ if he actually knew that video clips of himself like those were available online for anyone to see), she transferred another dozen or so of the files onto her own computer before erasing the online versions.

All of the files she had just removed were short little snippets, but the one titled ‘Girl Talk’ – of all things – was significantly longer. Buffy clicked on the link curiously.

The now-familiar scene of Spike sitting in his crypt – although dressed this time – and watching TV appeared onscreen. In only a few seconds, however, the door to the crypt burst open to reveal…

Dawn?

“Ha! I knew it!” Buffy exclaimed in triumph, pointing at the screen accusingly. “I _knew_ you were still seeing him after I told you not to!”

“Buffy, did you say something?” the real Dawn called from downstairs.

She instantly grimaced at having blown her cover. “Nothing!” she insisted, hoping her nosy little sister would just let it pass. “Just talking to myself as all.”

“Freak,” Dawn said downstairs just loudly enough for Buffy to hear.

She smiled slightly, taking the comment in the good humor her sister had meant it. Turning back to the screen, she discovered that taped Dawn had just brushed aside Spike’s ‘you really shouldn’t be here’ arguments and plopped down on the couch beside him, fiddling through his stuff and generally making herself obnoxious and at home.

“You just ‘ere to redecorate, or d’you ‘ave somethin’ on your mind, Bit?” Spike asked, lighting up a cigarette and studying her intently.

“I’m gonna tell Buffy you smoked around me,” Dawn teased.

A little smile curled up at the edges of Spike’s lips. “Then you’d have ta ‘xplain to her why you were around me in the first place,” he countered.

Dawn made a deflated little gesture of defeat, but Spike put out the cigarette anyway.

“Don’ you have school?” he finally inquired.

Dawn gave him an annoyed look. “Who are you?” she said, a snide tone to her voice. “My mother?”

Spike looked slightly wounded at the memory of Joyce for a second but quickly covered it up. Not quickly enough that Dawn didn’t see it, however.

“Sorry,” she apologized immediately, staring down at the toes of her shoes. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Her eyes peeked up through the curtain of her hair to see if he was still mad.

He was sitting back, an indifferent expression on his face, watching her intently. “So, decided that hangin’ around with a dead thing’s better’n livin’, huh, Bite Size?” he said simply.

Dawn’s brow furrowed slightly. “You’re more alive than all of _them_ are,” she finally said. “Especially Buffy.”

Spike let out a weary little sigh. “What’s Big Sis done now, then?” he demanded.

Dawn hemmed and hawed and plucked at the loose strings on Spike’s threadbare couch for a while before finally sighing and leaning back in a position that mirrored his own. “D-Do you ever wish she hadn’t come back?” she finally asked nervously.

Buffy’s eyes widened at the question. So did Spike’s onscreen.

“Do you?” he countered quickly.

Dawn rolled her eyes at him. “I know this trick,” she informed him matter-of-factly. “The ‘throw their question back at them’ one. It’s not like you don’t do it all the time…”

“An’ I know the ‘angry accusations to avoid answering a question’ technique,” Spike retorted with a little smirk.

Dawn gave him a shy smile before scooting over and resting her head against his shoulder. Spike did a bit of squirming and looking uncomfortable, but even Buffy could tell it was more because he wanted to keep up his Big Bad image in front of Dawn than from not wanting her beside him.

“Remember how bad it was when she was gone?” Dawn’s voice broke the silence of the crypt at last.

“Yeah,” Spike agreed, his hand cautiously reaching over to stroke her hair and offer her comfort, “I remember. Was like the sun had set permanently…”

Dawn nodded slowly before sitting up more so that she could look at him again. “We were so miserable,” she agreed, “but at least she was happy. Now she’s miserable, and I’m miserable, and you sure as hell seem miserable… So maybe it would just have been better if she’d never come back.”

Spike met her gaze, thinking about that for quite some time. “She’s alive,” he finally decided. “It’s done. There’s no changin’ what’s happened, Bit. Maybe she’d’ve been happier if she’d never been brought back, but…”

“But how am I supposed to live with that?!” Dawn exclaimed. “Living with someone’s who’s still half-dead…”

“Which is why you come to _me_?” Spike pointed out, one eyebrow raised.

“At least you try to live,” Dawn countered.

Spike couldn’t help but nod in agreement at that. “We just ‘ave to give ‘er time, Platelet,” he said softly. “The Buffy we love’s in there. She’ll find her way back to us; she’s strong like that…” His emotions began to take over him at that point, and he turned away from her for a second, forcing the confident mask back in place.

Buffy couldn’t help but smile. How often had she watched herself do the exact same thing in the mirror every morning?

“I’ve missed you,” Dawn said abruptly, leaning back into his shoulder again and closing her eyes. “Y-You don’t come around anymore…”

“The Slayer an’ I have some issues is all,” he assured her quickly. “’S not you.”

Buffy felt a guilty little pang for her efforts to break up Spike and Dawn’s friendship at that point. After all, she hadn’t seen either of them even remotely happy during this period…except at this one moment when they were together…

Spike’s voice quieted to a near whisper. “Missed you, too.”

Dawn smiled at that, a wide happy smile that was so different from every other Buffy’d seen on her face last year. She reached over and gave the vampire an impulsive hug.

Buffy would’ve sworn that Spike’s cheeks reddened in response, and she giggled slightly into her hand at the deer-caught-in-headlights expression on his face.

“Right now,” Dawn commented, “you’re more of a brother to me than she is a sister.”

Spike brushed her hair from her forehead, touched by her affection. “You know ‘d do anythin’ for you, right, Dawn?” he favored her with a rare use of her real name.

Dawn smiled again. “God, she’s such an idiot,” she decided, “letting you go…”

“I _am_ a vampire,” he felt obliged to point out.

“She’s an idiot,” Dawn repeated, her voice muffled by his shoulder as she clung lightly to him.

“Thanks, Bit,” he said with a small smile, his own eyes drifting closed for a second, savoring the rare positive emotion that was directed at him. “Thanks a lot…”

The video ended, and Buffy sat back, stunned. OK, she’d kind of always thought that when Dawn and Spike got together, he basically just introduced her to the nasty world of demons and crime and... Who knew that Spike could comfort someone like that?

 _Well, I did for one_ , she felt obliged to remind herself. _Like that whole him being ultra-nice and listening after I came back thing…_ She’d always known she’d had a reason for kissing him that first time. It had just been so long since she’d seen that strange kindness that he tried to cover up so often, she’d forgotten it existed.

On the other hand, she was surprised how little the _content_ of their conversation disturbed her. Actually, she _agreed_ with most of what they said, which was nothing short of miraculous in and of itself. She’d been going through hell last winter, and she’d brought down everyone near her as well. Her sister and former lover’s conversation mirrored her own recent thoughts about what she’d been like and how she’d hurt those she cared about.

In the hallway, she heard the present-day Dawn close the door to her room. Apparently, there was nothing good on TV after one a.m.

A little sliver of pain ran through Buffy’s heart then as she watched the two friends hold each other onscreen. The conversation she and Dawn had had about Spike just after her sister found out about the bathroom incident suddenly came back to her in a rush…

 _“If he ever comes back,” Dawn’s eyes were cold and hard, no pity in their depths, “I’ll kill him. I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way…”_

At the time, Buffy had done nothing to correct Dawn’s rather one-sided view of the event. She didn’t even know what exactly her sister thought had happened, although she’d heard it from Xander, so it probably portrayed Spike as the worst villain in the world.

Dawn had wanted to burn the duster he’d left behind that night…

She removed it from the far back corner of her closet now, grateful that she’d put up the effort to save it. A coat with this kind of history you couldn’t just burn on a moment’s whim…

It didn’t smell like him so much anymore. The lingering odor of cigarette smoke still clung lightly to it, but two months of being in her closet with fabric softened spring-fresh clothing had muted that special spicy Spike scent.

For some reason, she found this fundamentally troubling. That coat was meant to smell of Spike, to feel of him, to be with him wherever he was. How could he possibly have left it behind when he went to…wherever?

With a yawn, Buffy shut off her computer and climbed into bed. Even with the lights off, she could still see the outline of the black duster draped over the back of her chair. She watched it for a long time, thinking to herself.

“Would you have been better off,” she finally asked the dark shadow, “if I had never come back? If we had ended it as friends, if Dawn still loved you…” she trailed off abruptly, that empty sadness overcoming her for the first time since she’d first discovered he had gone.

And then she closed her eyes and, by sheer willpower alone, forced herself to sleep.


	4. Harsh Reality

“Hey there, pretty vampire,” Buffy said with a sad smile as she opened up the latest video on Andrew’s page. It had been getting harder and harder to watch the last few videos, seeing Spike sink deeper and deeper into despair and knowing that the damage was done and there was nothing she could do to comfort him. Saying the comforting words – even just to herself – however, made the pain just _slightly_ less…

She watched the final frame of the last video for a long time, her fingers lightly brushing the monitor screen and caressing Spike’s cheek where he lay of the floor, passed out from the obscene amount of liquor he’d been imbibing the entire time.

“Please, Spike,” she pleaded softly, “ _William_ … I’m not worth it…” A tear stung at the corner of her eye, and she moved to brush it away unconsciously.

Quickly deciding that she’d had enough of this torture for now, she flipped back through the earlier videos and watched Spike’s conversation with Clem again. A little smile crossed her face at his excitement and vibrancy and _love_. It was kind of like watching a sad romance where you had to rewind back to the happy parts in order to cheer yourself up after the ending.

“There’s the vampire I know and love,” she whispered softly as she watched him practically bounce of the walls. She didn’t even realize what she’d just said.

She quickly turned to another of the lighthearted videos – Spike and Xander throwing popcorn up in the air and trying to catch it in their mouths while Anya complained that she’d have to sweep the entire store – and her mood rose enough to face the next video that she hadn’t watched yet.

She’d dreaded this one for weeks, intentionally rewatching Spike in his depressing, drunken stupors over and over again rather than advancing beyond this next moment in time. She’d put it off for long enough now, though. It was time to finally face what she’d done…

‘The Effects of Domestic Abuse.’

She fidgeted nervously in her seat as she waited for it to load. Spike had looked pretty nasty when she’d left him in that alley, and he still hadn’t even managed to fully heal by the time of her birthday… She wasn’t really sure she was ready to handle seeing that again. Especially since she’d already seen how much she’d destroyed…

The video began to play for her slowly, and was she just imagining it or did his crypt seem grimmer than usual? No candles were lit that night and, even though the first fingers of dawn were just beginning to glimmer through the darkened windows, the sight of his empty crypt filled her with an irrational dread.

Just as the sun peeked over the horizon, the crypt door flung open, and two frantic figures scurried inside, the shorter leaning heavily on the taller.

Buffy blinked in surprise. Of all people in the world, what on earth was _Xander_ doing helping Spike home?

She continued to watch in stunned amazement as Xander half-carried, half-dragged Spike over to the armchair and set him down with a groan of relief.

“You need to lay off the pig’s blood,” Xander joked lightly, wiping the sweat from his brow and stretching his strained shoulder muscles.

Spike didn’t respond, his eyes looking glazed and vacant.

For one second Xander looked remotely… _concerned_? He brushed it off quickly. “Look,” he said, slightly annoyed at the vampire’s unresponsive state, “don’t you think we should tell Buffy whatever…” he shuddered slightly, “did _that_ to you? ‘Cause something that strong…can’t be good to have running loose.”

“It was nothing,” Spike insisted dully, reaching for the bottle of liquor he kept beside his chair.

“That’s really funny,” Xander’s tone implied the exactly opposite, “because I didn’t think ‘nothing’ was tough enough to kick the crap out of vampires. Makes you wonder why there needs to be a Slayer in the first place…”

Spike flinched at just how accurate Xander was and then groaned as the motion opened the cut between one eye once more.

Xander winced slightly in sympathy…but only because Spike couldn’t see him. “Well?” he demanded.

“Jus’ gamblin’ problems,” Spike lied through his teeth.

Xander rolled his eyes in disgust. “Just so long as _your_ little demon buddies don’t come after the rest of us again…” he threatened.

Spike coughed, and a trickle of blood dribbled down the side of his mouth in response. “They won’t,” he promised hoarsely.

Xander nodded in satisfaction. “I’ve got to go to work,” he commented, a slightly apologetic tone in his voice. “I was already late _before_ the beaten vampire staggered across the street in front of my car…”

“Go,” Spike managed to wave one hand in the air dismissively. Buffy could see that his shoulder was bleeding as well, but he hid the extent of the injuries from Xander.

Xander’s expression softened for a second. “Do you want me to call someone…?” he began hesitantly. “Willow…”

“No!” Spike insisted vehemently.

“All right, fine,” Xander huffed, somewhat offended. “Excuse me for having basic human compassion.”

Spike let out a weary sigh. “Clem?” he finally asked reluctantly.

“Huh?” Xander obviously wasn’t too quick on the uptake this early in the morning.

“Can you call Clem?” Spike forced the words past his bruised and cut lips. The humiliation at asking this from _Xander_ of all people radiated over his entire being. “He’s bandaged me up a couple o’ times before,” he felt the need to add lamely.

“Yeah, sure,” Xander agreed, digging around in his pocket. “Aha! Phone number’s on the wedding guest list…” He typed the numbers into his cell phone.

“Hey, Clem! It’s Xander,” he said into the receiver after the necessary space of a couple rings. “Yeah, great.” Pause. “Yeah.” Longer pause. “Uh-huh.” Pause. “Uh-huh… Look,” Xander cut the gregarious demon off in one of the rare conversation breaks, “I’m at Spike’s and he’s beat up pretty bad. Like, half to death bad. And I’ve got to get to work, so…” Brief pause. “Great,” Xander said with a nod for Spike’s benefit. “Thanks, I owe you one. Yeah. Bye.”

Xander hung up. “He’ll be here in a few minutes,” he informed Spike. “Look, I’m _really_ late and…”

“Go on,” Spike said disinterestedly. “Don’ need you to babysit me, Harris.”

Xander scowled at the vampire. “Like I care anyway,” he muttered under his breath before stalking out of the crypt and slamming the door shut behind him.

Spike flinched slightly at the loud noise before slumping weakly back into his chair.

Buffy bit her lip as she watched him sit there silently. She’d never known it had been _this_ bad. After all, most of his bruises hadn’t fully formed until after she’d left the alley…

Both eyes were a deep purple and swollen nearly shut. Cuts and lacerations from her nails and the gravel of the alleyway were slashed across virtually his entire face, each beading with crimson drops of blood. His nose was broken in several places, and it looked like she’d finally managed to smash one of those perfect cheekbones of his. Both his lips were swollen, cut, bleeding, and he continued to lightly hack up blood.

As she watched, he groaned and carefully slipped his duster from his shoulders. Even in this extreme pain, he took the caution necessary to rest the precious leather neatly over the television. He began on his shirt then, wincing every time he moved his right arm. Buffy couldn’t quite remember what she’d done to it…

And then his shirt was off, and she saw the jagged torn skin and noticed for the first time that it was dislocated… Hadn’t she kicked him in the shoulder there a couple of times before grinding it down into the cold cement?

She gasped in horror and felt the tears start to stream down her face at the sight of him. He had been so beautiful and… God! How could she have done that to him? He had been her friend, her lover, her sister’s protector, her confidante when no one else would listen, and _this_ was how she had repaid him?

With a weary sigh, he slumped back into his chair, and the first tears welled in his own eyes. He hissed, and she could tell that the salty droplets stung in his fresh wounds, but he didn’t seem to be able to stop.

So she cried along with him, vainly hoping that the pain in her heart now could in some slightest way ease his anguish. The only time she had seen him even close to that bad had been after he’d let Glory beat him half to death. And even _that_ paled to how he looked now.

“I’m no better than Glory!” she exclaimed with a gasping sob. “Oh god, Spike…”

The image on the computer screen just continued to stare blankly off into space, even the bottle beside him forgotten in his grief. Buffy found herself in a similar shocked trance, and they both jumped slightly when the door opened and Clem came rushing in.

“Oh. My. God.”

Buffy had never seen a look of such abject horror and rage on the usually kindly demon’s face. She leapt back stunned slightly when Clem slipped into his own version of ‘gameface’ for a second – one thing was for certain; it sure as hell wasn’t pretty.

“Tentacles,” Spike pointed out wearily, pointing to junctures on his own face that mirrored where Clem’s most prominent protrusions had erupted from his baggy skin.

Clem shook his head, and in another second he was back to normal. He still looked furious, however. “What happened?” he demanded in a sharp, clipped voice unlikely any Buffy had ever heard from the friendly demon before.

“Just the hazards ‘f demon slayin’,” Spike shrugged, looking anywhere but at Clem as he said this lie.

Clem obviously didn’t buy it. “You’re not a very good liar,” he commented a bit more gently, sitting down in the armchair across from his friend and opening up the first aid kit he’d brought.

“You’re right,” Spike agreed but wouldn’t say anything more.

Clem tended to his face first, dabbing and sterilizing the wounds there with a skill that reviled any nurse Buffy had ever seen. She watched with something akin to amazement as a certain sludgy green mix Clem applied to Spike’s face right over where his bones had been broken seeped in through his skin with a slight fluorescent glow. As she watched, his nose and cheek twisted beneath the skin, the bones cracking as they slipped back into place and healed.

Spike hissed in pain as his face restored itself, his fingers clenching at the arms of the threadbare chair with such intensity that she was surprised he didn’t break it.

“Damn, that hurts,” Spike finally managed to wheeze out after the glowing had passed and his face was back in place once more.

“Don’t get yourself beat up in the first place, and I won’t ever have to use it again,” Clem commented offhandedly, reapplying the ointment to the few wounds that had begun to drizzle blood again while Spike’s bones had healed. “Is your shoulder broken, too?” he inquired.

Spike shook his head and instantly wished he hadn’t. “Just dislocated,” he managed to say through his blinding headache.

Clem grimaced. “This is gonna hurt again…”

“Go ahead,” Spike decided it wasn’t worth risked a nod.

Buffy winced in sympathy when Clem snapped Spike’s shoulder back into place with a loud pop. Spike screamed out in agony but managed not to vamp out even though his eyes turned yellow. She figured that would probably cause him even _more_ pain right now…

Silence hung over the crypt as Clem washed and bandaged the shoulder wound. He proceeded to inspect Spike, tending to all the other bumps and scratches he found.

“No broken ribs,” he commented, quirking his head to the side in an odd way that Buffy figured he must have picked up from Spike. Clem frowned when he reached Spike’s hands. “ _She_ did this, didn’t she?” he said in sudden realization.

“Bugger,” Spike grumbled, trying to turn away from him.

“You didn’t fight back,” Clem informed him, holding the vampire’s uninjured knuckles up for him to see. “That means it had to have been her!”

“’S nothin’,” Spike insisted, curling up slightly into himself.

“ _Nothing_?!” Clem exclaimed in pure horror. “You weren’t this bad even after you fell off of that tower!”

“Sh-She din’t mean anythin’ by it,” Spike protested weakly. “I-I made a mistake an’…” He sniffled, looking so much like a scared little boy there that Buffy couldn’t help but start crying anew.

“A _mistake_?!” Clem was still outraged. “So she beat you for it, is that it?”

“I was _wrong_!” Spike repeated. “’m a demon, soulless… I don’ get it. I could never be worthy of—”

“She’s the one who’s not worthy of you,” Clem insisted, crossing his arms in front of himself.

“She’s worth _everything_!” Spike said vehemently.

“Really?” Clem said coolly. “Because it seems to me like all she’s doing is using and abusing you.”

“Sh-She cares about me!” Spike’s certainty on that statement seemed to falter. “She ‘as to… ‘ve done everything for her, Clem. She has to…”

“You don’t beat up people you care about,” Clem insisted, “even if you _are_ the Slayer.”

“She ‘as to…” Spike echoed raggedly, tears spilling from his eyes once more.

“Spike,” Clem’s voice was soft, consoling, “I think it might be a good idea if you, er…” There just was no way to put his next statement delicately.

“No!” Spike’s eyes flashed yellow. “I won’t leave her! Not now that she finally needs me…”

“Just get away for a while,” Clem pleaded. “Give yourself a break, time to think more clearly about things. There’s this support group I know…real nice demons, all Big Bads too. They’d help you through it, wouldn’t look down on you in the slightest…”

“I don’ need any ‘elp,” Spike repeated stubbornly, “an’ I don’t ‘ave anything to think about. I love her! Tha’s all that should matter…”

“You’re right; it is,” Clem agreed. “But if she’s hurting you like this…one of these days she’s going to kill you.”

“I know.” Spike’s voice was scared, lost, alone. His eyes seemed wide and blue even through the swollen bruises that surrounded them. “But if tha’s what it takes to make ‘er love me…”

“I don’t think she can love anything right now,” Clem countered a bit bitterly, taking a swig of the bottle at Spike’s feet before offering it to his friend. “I don’t like to judge people, but…” He trailed off, still apparent unable to say his judgments out loud.

“Maybe she can’t,” Spike admitted with a little sniffle, “but she’s gettin’ better.”

“Oh yeah,” Clem commented wryly, looking at his wounds skeptically, “a _lot_ better.”

“She _is_!” Spike insisted vehemently. “I just ‘ave to be there for her, an’ then…”

“She’ll miraculously decide she loves you one day?” Clem finished a bit harshly. “I hate to break to you, but Slayers tend not to see much more than ‘Demon; kill’.”

“She sees me,” Spike repeated desperately. “She ‘as to, after all ‘ve done for her. One day…” He whimpered softly. “One day…”

Clem let out a resigned sigh and gave up for now. “Right,” he said, still sounding horribly unconvinced. He got up and walked over to Spike’s mini-fridge, opening the door and sticking his head inside. “You’ll need more blood if you want to heal properly – human stuff.”

“Slayer doesn’t like it when I drink human,” Spike said meekly.

“Well then she shouldn’t have beaten you to the point where you actually need it,” Clem retorted in a clipped voice. “You want me to go down to Willy’s now or later?”

“Now,” Spike said in a cracked whisper. “Feelin’ real thirsty.”

“I’ll be right back,” Clem assured him, checking the bandage over Spike’s left eye first to make sure it wasn’t seeping. “Try to get some sleep while I’m out…and if you’re feeling better this afternoon, we can watch ‘Time Bandits’!” he added cheerfully, hoping to restore the vampire’s spirits if nothing else.

“Great,” Spike said dully, curling up into his chair and wrapping a raggedy old blanket around his shoulders as he did so.

“See ya soon,” Clem said with false brightness before slipping out of the crypt.

Spike lay there still for quite some time before he finally reached over to his duster and fiddled around in the pockets. Buffy squinted at the screen trying to identify the small, white object he’d removed, and she’d almost decided it was a Kleenex when he brought it to his nose.

However, he sniffed it then, and she suddenly realized that it was one of her old pairs of panties – the one Spike had kept as a trophy after their first night together.

“I love you,” he whispered softly, raggedly, inhaling the musk of her desire once more before tucking the little remembrance away once more and drifting into a shallow, troubled sleep…


	5. Shattering

Buffy had been at the point of snapping pretty much all that week.

So when she came back from patrol one particularly bad night, her favorite blouse and shoes ruined, a rather nasty cut in her side that she had to keep hidden from her family so they wouldn’t worry about her, and completely covered in green slime, she needed to hear _anything_ other than Xander’s “Rough patrol, huh?” from his comfy, safe position on the couch, watching funny movies and downing popcorn in big, messy handfuls.

“Especially since I don’t have anyone to help me anymore!” she bit back with the rage and bitterness she’d managed to keep out of her voice at all her friends since they’d brought her back. She realized now that she’d deflected all her anger at _them_ onto Spike, simply because they weren’t strong enough to take it.

Indeed, Xander had this wounded, horror-struck look on his face, like he was scarred for life by her words. “B-Buffy?” he asked worriedly, but still not getting off his comfy couch or stopping to eat. “A-Are you OK?”

“Are you hurt?” Dawn asked, equally worried.

“Hurt?!” Buffy screamed in outrage. “Do you people even _know_ what it means to really be hurt?! Of course not! You’re too busy trapped in your own sheltered little worlds to know what it’s like! Well, here’s a clue for you: I just _am_ this way sometimes! So deal with it!” And, in a flurry of rage and tears, she dashed up the stairs into her room, slamming the door behind her.

Xander and Dawn continued to sit in the living room together for a while, slowly blinking in disbelief while laughter erupted from the TV.

“W-What…?” Dawn finally began, fighting back tears of her own.

Xander frowned. “Maybe a demon got to her or something…is affecting her. This has happened before.” He left the TV on and slowly went up the stairs, a nervous Dawn at his heels.

The first knock on Buffy’s door didn’t get any response. Xander knocked again, louder. Still nothing. He listened at the door for a second and could make out a gasping sob inside. OK, so she was still in there… He tried the knob. Unlocked.

“Buffy…” he began, opening the door and then gasping back at what he saw. Buffy lay out on her bed, Spike’s duster stretched out beside her in a mock facsimile of the vampire’s form, her face buried in the black leather where his chest would be, sobbing softly. Rage overtook Xander in an instant. “What on earth is _this_?!” he practically roared, the pulsing vein in his forehead looking like it would pop.

Buffy looked up at him with a hint of rage in her own eyes. “Spike,” she said simply. “Surely you remember him? The guy you insulted and abused for years?”

“The _vampire_ that tried to _RAPE_ you!” Xander shouted back, still too enraged to think straight. How could she _possibly_ still not see how evil Spike was?

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed coldly, “he did. You wanna know _why_ he did?” She glared daggers in Xander’s direction.

“Because he’s a demon,” Xander insisted, “because he’s a monster…”

“Because we never gave him a chance to be anything else,” Buffy countered, just as angry as Xander. “God, Xander, what were you thinking? ‘I’ll just kick the demon while he’s down, and if he gets angry and snaps at me that just proves he’s evil’?!”

“Only a monster could’ve raped you,” Xander hissed.

“That’s funny,” Buffy retorted, “because this ‘monster’ you’re so fond of insulting _couldn’t_ rape me! If you had seen…” She knew tears were streaming down her eyes, but she didn’t care. “You don’t know what happened…” she insisted. “You only see what you want to see…”

“Yeah, we don’t know what happened,” Dawn – who had been uncharacteristically silent up until this point – finally spoke up angrily, “because you won’t tell us!”

“And what automatically gives you the _right_ to know?!” Buffy countered.

“Sister? Friend?” Xander gestured back in forth between the two of them, his voice dripping sarcasm. “Any of this mean anything to you?”

Buffy gestured to the jacket beside her. “Friend, partner, _lover_!” she insisted. “But you don’t even care, do you? All you ever cared about was that he was a vampire!”

“He. Tried. To. _RAPE_. You!” Xander screamed loudly enough that Dawn covered her ears in response.

Buffy did no such thing. “Don’t rationalize it after the fact,” she said coldly. “You hated him _long_ before that. You did nothing but try to make him miserable…and that meant you made _me_ miserable as well. And, you know what? I bet you still don’t care.”

“Buffy,” Xander’s voice was pleading, confused, “this is _Spike_ we’re talking about! Where on earth is all this coming from? Did something happen tonight?”

“ ‘Tonight’?” she repeated, laughing in a bitter way that made Xander’s blood freeze. “You just don’t get it, do you? You’re so blind to everything that doesn’t fit into your safe, black-and-white little worldview…”

“I saw what he did to you in that bathroom,” Xander countered, eyes narrowed.

“And you also saw what I did to him in that back-alley,” Buffy retorted. “But did you care? No. You only saw what you wanted to…”

Xander and Dawn both frowned in confusion at Buffy’s words, but then slowly realization dawned in Xander’s eyes. “The…” he stammered, unable to get the words out as he remembered the vampire’s bruised and beaten condition that morning. “That was you?” he finally spit out incredulously.

“What?” Dawn was still completely in the dark. “What happened? Who did what in a back-alley?”

“All me,” Buffy said with a wicked little smile. “The _real_ me…”

“Buffy, what…?” Xander was horribly confused now. “No,” he quickly shook his head, “not the real you. Just…I mean, he must have done _something_ to deserve it!”

“That’s right,” Buffy said sarcastically. “He _deserved_ to be beaten to death, to be used and abused by everyone he loved, to be insulted, tormented, and ridiculed when all he was trying to do was help… But, no matter, how evil _I_ was last year, I don’t _deserve_ any of it, do I, Xander?”

“You’re human!” Xander insisted. “He’s a demon!”

“Oh, I see,” Buffy retorted harshly, “so Anya deserves it now, too? So why aren’t you over at her apartment right now beating her to death because you don’t _like_ that she’s a demon again? Huh, Xander? Because she _deserves_ it, according to you. She’s a _demon_ , nothing now. So it really doesn’t matter, does it? _She_ doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t talk about her like that!” Xander cried out, tears in his eyes. “I _love_ her!”

“Well, then, you must be a terrible person,” Buffy spit at him. “Taking a demon to bed… It’s sick and perverse! Or, at least, that’s what _you’ve_ been trying to teach me all these years!”

“I _never_ —” Xander began.

“Will you just _shut up_ for a second!” Dawn screeched in frustration, the pitch of her voice causing both Buffy and Xander’s ears to ring with pain. The silence she required followed. “Now _what_ ,” she said in a voice just shy of ear-piercing, “happened in the alley?” she demanded.

“It turns out that your sister,” Buffy began sarcastically, flashing an angry glare at Xander, “who is so inherently _good_ because she’s human and all decided to beat her boyfriend within an inch of his life for no other reason than she was having a bad month. But, don’t worry, it’s all OK because he’s a demon and _deserved_ it.”

“W-What?” Dawn’s face went pale. “Buffy, when?”

“Remember that lovely black-eye he had at my birthday party?” Buffy informed her.

Dawn looked confused, torn, as if what fragile little hold she still had on the world was being torn apart. “Why?” she finally whispered.

“See, that’s the really neat thing,” Buffy’s eyes never left Xander’s glare. “Because what he did? It’s exactly what you did – just tried to talk me out of turning myself over to the police. But he was a demon, so it was OK to beat him. Isn’t that right, Xander?”

“You had just been brought back from heaven,” Xander insisted. “You weren’t right.”

“Ah, I see,” she said, her voice dangerously low. “So when I do something horrible, I’m excused because I’m having a bad day. But when _Spike_ does it…”

“He’s a demon,” Xander insisted. “It’s his nature.”

“ _Anya’s_ a demon!” Buffy practically screeched. “This has _nothing_ to do with the fact that Spike’s a demon! It’s because you’re trying to control my life! You did it with Angel, and now you’re doing it with Spike! All you care about is that I find someone you _approve_ of. My happiness is only second!”

Xander let out an annoyed sigh. “Is _that_ what this is all about?” he demanded. “Angel? ‘Cause that was a _long_ time ago, Buffy, and—”

“This is about _Spike_!” she hissed. “Angel has _nothing_ to do with it! Except for the fact that you seem to irrationally hate Spike just as much as you did Angel…”

“ ‘Irrationally’?” Xander repeated in disbelief. “Spike tried to kill us, like, fifty times! That, and He. Tried. To. Rape. You!” God, why wasn’t she getting it?

“God, why aren’t you _getting_ it, Xander?!” Buffy exclaimed, frustrated. “H-He changed… He wasn’t like that… I saw…” She gestured over to the laptop.

Xander’s eyes instantly honed in on it. “What did you see?” he instantly demanded, snatching up from the desk. “The videos been making you miss your demon lover?” There was a nasty curve to his lips that she’d never seen before.

“Give that back!” Buffy demanded, instantly on her feet.

“Why, what’s on here?” Xander demanded. “What trick has Spike pulled _this time_ to blind you to his nature?” He intentionally held the laptop high over his head so she couldn’t reach it. “God, you’re such a child sometimes!” he accused angrily. “And, you know what? I’m getting sick of it. I try my hardest to do what’s best for you and—”

“You. Don’t. Get. To. Choose. What’s. Best. For. Me!” Buffy practically screeched, catching the laptop and tugging it lightly toward her. She didn’t dare use her Slayer strength, though, because the object of their contention was so fragile. “Now, give it to me!” she demanded.

“Why?” Xander demanded harshly. “So you can stay locked up in your room and lie to yourself?” He gestured to the jacket on the bed. “He was nothing but a monster. The only reason you think differently is because you’ve been stuck in here _deluding_ yourself and avoiding your _real_ friends, _again_!”

“My _real_ friends would want me to be happy!” Buffy insisted, practically in tears as she tugged at the laptop. “Please, Xander…” she begged. “It’s all I have left. I need it…” And all out sob followed by a ragged whisper. “I love him.”

Xander’s eyes widened, and he instantly stepped back, letting the laptop go as he did so. Buffy instantly clutched it in her arms, holding it to her as she settled back down on the bed.

“He tried to rape you,” Xander repeated for the umpteenth time. “He’s nothing but a killer and a monster and a _rapist_!”

“No, you’re wrong,” Buffy insisted, shaking her violently amidst her sobs. “He’s more. Things got twisted, but he was more; I saw it. He was a man…and he can be that way again. Because I forgive him!” She practically cried out that last phrase for the world to hear. “I forgive him…” she repeated in almost a whisper. “And I’m willing to let him be a man this time…”

“He’s gone,” Xander countered cruelly. “If nothing else, that should tell just how worthless he really was. But, you know what? I don’t think you’re ever going to see. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been there from the beginning protecting you—”

“I _never_ asked you to,” Buffy insisted, eyes flashing. “I can take care of myself!”

“Yeah, sure,” Xander said sarcastically. “Taking care of yourself consists of falling in love with a rapist, I see. Well, guess what? I. Don’t. Care. Anymore. Have fun sullying yourself with your little demons, because I’m not going to bother to stop you anymore! You’re not worth it!” And, with that, he took off down the stairs.

Buffy and Dawn both flinched when they heard the front door slam shut behind him.

With another ragged sob, Buffy set the laptop back down on her desk before turning back to the soft leather on her bed and stroking it lightly.

“Buffy?” Dawn said hesitantly.

“He loved you,” was Buffy’s soft response.

Dawn bit her lip. “Yeah, I know,” she agreed. “But—”

“He never wanted to hurt you,” Buffy countered. “All he wanted was…” A sob. “And you believed Xander over him.”

Dawn frowned. “Yeah, I believed Xander,” she agreed. “And you know why? Because you said it was true. You never ever bothered to explain what happened that night. So, really, why wouldn’t I expect the worst?”

“Because you loved him,” Buffy countered.

“Love isn’t necessarily blind,” Dawn countered with a wisdom Buffy wouldn’t have expected from one so young. “All I could ever know was what you told me. And you obviously didn’t tell me everything.”

“I should’ve, y’know?” Buffy’s voice was weak. “I should’ve had the courage before to tell you…”

“I’m not arguing with you,” Dawn agreed, hazarding to sit down on the corner of the bed. “Although, given Xander’s reaction, I can see why you didn’t…”

“Oh god,” Buffy put her head in her hands, “you don’t know how much I’ve let him sway me…let all of them…”

“You’re too stubborn to let anyone really sway you,” Dawn insisted.

“No, I did,” Buffy insisted, daring to look Dawn right in the eyes for the first time. “You don’t know what it’s like, Dawnie. Being the Slayer, knowing that you’re meant to be alone…” She shivered. “I don’t want to be alone,” she said in a frightened, childlike voice.

“Well, then you had to make a choice,” Dawn agreed. “Although, apparently your choice was ‘neither’, since both Spike _and_ Xander are gone now…”

“I know,” Buffy agreed, wiping away the last of her tears. “I know what the right choice was now. But…he’s gone…”

“He’s Spike,” Dawn reminded her softly. “He’ll be back.”

Buffy nodded slowly, returning her gaze to the black leather beside her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

For a second Dawn thought she was talking to the absent vampire, until her sister’s bloodshot eyes darted up sharply to look at her. “Why?” Dawn asked, confused.

“I-I shouldn’t’ve snapped at you,” Buffy said. “It’s not your fault. I-I should have told the truth from the beginning. Maybe then, Spike would’ve…” She trailed off and began again. “It’s not Xander I’m mad at,” she finally decided. “It’s myself for letting him act this way for this long.”

Dawn nodded slowly. “If it helps at all,” she said slowly, “if you’d told me back then…I would’ve been happy for the two of you.”

Buffy gave her a grateful little smile. “But?” she prompted.

“But now…” Dawn cast a pointed glance in the direction of the bathroom door. “It’s too late, Buffy,” she said cautiously. “Even you have to know it’s too late.”

“But don’t I have to try?” Buffy asked, apparently having completely forgotten that her sister should be far less experienced in this manner than she was. “If I really love him, don’t I at least have to try?”

“I don’t know,” Dawn sighed, standing up. “But, no matter what, you’re not alone,” she said with an oddly shy smile. “After all, that’s what family’s for.”

“And love,” Buffy decided.


	6. And Breaking Through

She had almost forgotten that night. But, when she really thought about it, that was when everything had fallen apart. The night when she’d passed the point of no return, the night when the exchange had finally been completed…

“Tell me you love me,” the Buffy on-screen pleaded.

Spike’s brow instantly furrowed, his tone turning deadly serious as he bared his heart to her once again. “I love you,” he insisted, a possessive vehemence in his voice. “You know I do.”

“Tell me you want me.”

A sly smile crossed his face at that, and his tongue curled up beneath his teeth. “I always want you,” he began. “In fact…”

Her kiss cut him off, and she pulled him to her, practically wrapping his body around hers. The look of pure bliss was unmistakable on his face, however, as he fell to the sarcophagus on top of her. This was different, he could tell. They way she kissed him, the way she touched him…the way she urged _him_ to touch _her_ … This wasn’t like all the other times before. She was letting him hold her at last, caress her at last, make love to her at last…

“I love you so much, Buffy!” he said, practically in tears as he caught her lips in another sweet, tender kiss.

It was all going to be all right now. He should have known that. He should never have doubted that one day she’d truly accept his love and – just maybe – return it as well…?

The real Buffy promptly clicked the stop button on the computer screen before moving the little time-indicator thingie at the bottom of the video player past the more X-rated portions of the video.

“That was the first time I ever let him make love to me,” she said solemnly, her voice sounding worn, tired…alone. “That was the first time I ever let him tell me he loved me without beating him for it. I barely even knew he was there. I mean, I _knew_ obviously, but I just saw a body. I didn’t even realize that there was a man in it to break. I was so selfish. I took and took and…” She choked back a sob. “And then one day there was nothing left,” she admitted raggedly. “I had taken it all…”

Dawn merely gulped and nodded slowly. She was quite confident by now that she didn’t want to know any more, but then that was what growing up was all about, wasn’t it? Dealing with the pain and anguish instead of being sheltered from it. And her sister needed someone to understand right now, someone to keep her from crawling into a corner and crying until there was nothing of _her_ left, either. And, by process of elimination, Dawn was the only one left.

“You’ll want to close your eyes for part of this one,” Buffy informed her, wiping the tears from her eyes as she found the place she wanted to start up again. “You kinda have to hear the conversation from the point where Riley walks in, but there’s a bit of inappropriate stuff right at first…”

Dawn nodded slowly and closed her eyes. “Let me know when I can open ‘em again,” she agreed.

Buffy hit the play button when she was sure Dawn had properly shut her eyes. Dawn’s brow furrowed as the crypt door came crashing in, and the first exchange occurred between Riley and Spike.

“It’s OK now,” Buffy said, biting back a tear.

Dawn opened her eyes just in time to see the on-screen Buffy clock Spike. He fell to the floor in a heap, looking hurt that she hadn’t stood by him, hadn’t stood up for him.

Her intentions to do the exact opposite were abundantly clear. She seemed to be practically sidling up against Riley while casting Spike disgusted looks the entire time.

“We find the eggs down there,” the real Buffy’s voice sounded almost emotionless as she watched them all vanish down into the lower level of the crypt. “We blew the place up. They were trying to kill us, of course. But still…” She bit her lower lip. “I didn’t doubt Spike’s guilt for a second.”

Dawn’s brow furrowed slightly. “But you said the eggs were down there?” she asked, confused.

Buffy nodded. “He said that he was keeping them as a favor to a friend,” she said numbly. “I didn’t listen to him. I came back later that evening and broke it off with him for good.” She bit back a little sob at the memory. “Oh, Dawnie, if you could’ve seen the look in his eyes!” It took her a moment to compose herself as she desperately wiped at the tears that streamed down her cheeks. “I think that was the day I killed him,” she said simply.

Dawn merely nodded numbly. “Was it?” she finally asked.

Buffy looked up at her, demanding clarification.

“A favor,” Dawn provided. “For a friend, I mean.”

“You remember the Caridan incident last week?” Buffy asked softly.

“Yeah?”

“That was the real Doctor,” she sighed. “Finally tracked him down. Guess who it was?”

Dawn shook her head. “No clue.”

“One of Spike’s kitten poker buddies,” Buffy said wearily. “The one with the x-ray vision. My guess: Spike got into debt again.”

“He had a tendency to do that,” Dawn said simply, playing with a loose string on Buffy’s comforter absentmindedly.

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed distantly. A brief chortle of laughter bubbled to the surface and was quickly smothered by a sob. “I’m starting to forget, you know?” she admitted, her voice sounding weak and scared. “I have to remind myself. That way he always tilted his head, and how he would constantly fiddle with his cigarettes and then stomp them out after only one puff…”

“He said he liked to keep his hands busy,” Dawn provided, sniffing slightly herself. “It kept him from fidgeting…”

“I always wondered about that,” Buffy said numbly. “But I never bothered to ask.” She sighed. “There were so many things I never bothered to ask; I just didn’t care.”

“Why do you care now?” Dawn asked somewhat warily. “I mean, after what happened in the bathroom…” She trailed off. “Why now, Buffy?”

Buffy didn’t answer for a long time. The video on the screen before her had long since frozen on the final frame, having ended as soon as the three of them had vanished through the trapdoor. It was strange, she realized. That now, of all times, she would suddenly start to feel. Although not so strange, once she looked into the dying light within Spike’s eyes.

“I was dead before,” she finally answered Dawn’s question, well aware of the silence that had hung between them for too long. “All last year, I was dead. And he did everything he could to bring me back to life…”

“Did he succeed?” Dawn bit nervously at her lower lip, watching her heartbroken sister. At times, she seemed like her old self once more, but whenever she got to thinking about Spike and what she’d cast aside…

“Yes.” It came out as a mewling sob.

Dawn flinched. She still couldn’t stand to see her sister like this, so unbearably sad…although even she had to admit it was good to see her feel _something_.

“It destroyed his life, but he gave me back mine,” Buffy finally concluded. “I killed him, Dawnie…” She turned pleading, tear-stained eyes in Dawn’s direction.

“He attacked you,” she pointed out gently.

Buffy shook her head. “That wasn’t him,” she insisted. “That was an empty shell of the little that was left of him…the demon at its worst. J-Just like in the alley…” She hissed at the memory. “That wasn’t me. I wasn’t really in there, just like he wasn’t. It kinda came around full circle, y’know?”

Dawn didn’t. “I don’t get it,” she provided.

A soft smile crossed Buffy’s features. “I don’t think anyone else can, really,” she said, a fond, reminiscent tone in her voice. “Just me and Spike. That was always there, you know. We just kind of got each other, even back when we were enemies…”

“You didn’t seem to think that before,” Dawn commented.

“I did,” Buffy admitted slowly, “but I could never allow myself to acknowledge it.” She gave Dawn a sad smile. “That’s the thing I hate most about being the Slayer,” she admitted. “If I was just a normal person, I could admit all this, but… People depend on me, Dawnie. I-I can’t just give in, no matter how much I might want to.”

“Then why are you willing to admit it now?” the teenager asked.

Buffy let her head fall into her hands. “Maybe because I’m tired. I’m alone. And now that I’m alive again… He gave me so much, and I never even gave him a chance.” This last part was said in a whisper.

Dawn watched her for a long time, pondering her words to make sure they came out right. Even so, she couldn’t keep the slight emotional stutter from her voice. “Wh-When you were… _gone_ last summer,” she finally began, “Spike and I… Well, we spent a lot of time together. Grieving. And he told me once… He told me…”

Buffy listened to her little sister, sounding so grown-up and world weary. She wondered if she had sounded that way at her age. She’d certainly held the world on her shoulders by then…

“He blamed himself,” Dawn finally settled on the right words. “He said that it was his fault. He was the one who was supposed to die that night, not you, not me, _him_. He wanted to die in your place, Buffy. And, I guess that’s kind of what he finally managed to do…” She trailed off at that.

“He deserved a _real_ chance,” Buffy insisted, “after all he’s done for me… Not just a chance to save me.”

“He wanted you to live,” Dawn countered. “He wanted a lot of other things, too. But that…”

“Sometimes I think he would’ve been better off if I’d stayed dead,” Buffy confessed softly. “That everyone would’ve been. Spike could’ve moved on, and Willow wouldn’t have gone all addict-y. Tara might’ve lived; you could’ve had something resembling a normal life… And Xander and Anya…” She managed a short, bitter bark of laughter. “Well, I guess they still would’ve had their problems,” she conceded.

“It wouldn’t’ve been better,” Dawn insisted. “We survived while you were gone, but we didn’t really live, y’know?”

Buffy shook her head. One of her golden locks stuck to her wet cheek, and she absentmindedly brushed it aside.

“Willow was out of her depth long before you died,” Dawn insisted. “And who knows? Something just as nasty could’ve happened to Tara. You’ve saved her – saved us all – so many times, even since you came back. You have no way of knowing if she would’ve made it. And, as for me and Spike…” She took a deep breath. “It wasn’t like we were getting better and healing before you came back. We knew you were gone, but…”

“It would’ve been screwed up both ways,” Buffy admitted. “That’s the scariest thing, y’know? That, no matter what, everything still sucks.”

“It doesn’t suck now,” Dawn countered. Buffy gave her an incredulous look, and Dawn rolled her eyes at the way her statement had sounded. “I mean, you and me, talking. That doesn’t suck, right?”

Buffy managed a small smile, one that actually reached her eyes. “No, it doesn’t,” she agreed.

“So maybe things get better,” Dawn argued. “It just takes a while to get there.”

“Yeah, what with the whole me finally falling in love again after it’s way too late,” Buffy said sarcastically.

“You fell in love again,” Dawn persisted. “A few months ago that wouldn’t have been possible. Hell, even back with the whole Riley thing, you couldn’t…” She stopped abruptly. She’d heard all of Spike’s theories on the subject, of course, but Buffy’d never confirmed any of them.

“I couldn’t love him,” Buffy finished, finally admitting the painful truth about her and Riley. “I wanted to, but… I was still mourning Angel. And, no matter what Riley did, he could never make me forget that.”

“But Spike could?” Dawn pressed.

Buffy laughed, a spark in her eyes as she remembered all too many of her heated encounters with the bleached vampire in question. “Dealing with Spike was…intense. I was never really aware of anything but the two of us.” She looked at where the screensaver was now showing winged toasters flying across the screen – just another sign of the lighthearted humor that seemed to have faded from her life over the years. “Did you want to see the next video?” she asked Dawn belatedly.

“What is it?” Dawn asked reluctantly.

“Spike yelling a lot, getting drunk, and trashing his crypt,” Buffy sighed. “He really doesn’t handle break-ups well, does he?”

“He tends not to be the one who wants to break up,” Dawn agreed.

“Just like me to treat a long-term relationship kinda guy like a cheap fling,” Buffy sighed. “I’m really fucked up, you know that?”

Dawn smiled softly. “Not so much worse than everyone else,” she reassured her sister.

“Feels like I am,” Buffy countered.

“You don’t feel better now?”

“I do. But I still wish… I wish that I could make things better,” Buffy sighed. “See what it would be like between me and Spike without the nastiness, see what he could have become…”

Dawn gave her a sad smile. “Dwelling too much in the past is bad, but you can’t change it, either. Spike wanted you to be you again.”

“And I am,” Buffy insisted.

“Then, maybe you should hold on to that little bit of good and move on,” Dawn advised. “He wouldn’t want you to be hurt like this.”

“I can’t move on,” Buffy insisted. “Not yet. I love him, Dawn. And I have to do _something_ to make things right again.”

Dawn leaned over and gave her a quick, impulsive hug. “Good luck,” she said honestly, even if she didn’t quite believe that that chance would truly come…


	7. What Might Have Been

A shrill scream split the night as the vampire sunk in fangs into the woman’s neck. However, just as he did so, a swirl of black leather crashed into him, sending him sprawling and allowing his victim to collapse onto the cold pavement of alley.

With an enraged snarl, the vampire looked up at his attacker…and gulped when his eyes met with instant, permanent death.

Buffy’s heel connected with his jaw before he decided it would be a good idea to try and fight her anyway. As she moved, Spike’s leather turned with her body, caressing her almost as her lover’s flesh once had.

However, this fledgling didn’t even have a tenth of the strength of the vampire that occupied Buffy’s days and nights, and she dispatched him in only a few seconds. A cloud of dust billowed up from under the point of her stake, and the threat was no more.

That matter taken care of, Buffy turned back to the victim who was just now shakily getting to her feet. “Are you all right?” she asked anxiously, seeing the blood on the girl’s throat.

A soft sob shook the girl’s body. “Wh-What…?” she gasped, her eyes looking into Buffy’s for answers.

“It’s all right,” Buffy assured her, taking the scared girl by the arm and leading her back into the Bronze. “He can’t hurt you now.”

“You saved me,” the girl seemed to suddenly realize as they entered through the back door.

Buffy’s eyes widened in surprise. Most people didn’t pick up on this fact…at least, not while she was still with them. “Uh…yeah,” she agreed, slightly embarrassed.

A ghost of a smile lit up the girl’s face. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Buffy gulped. OK, a thanks was even _more_ rare. “No biggie,” she insisted. “Just saw there was trouble and decided to help.”

“If only there were more people around like you,” the girl continued.

“Just don’t go out in the dark with any strange men, and you won’t need people like me again,” Buffy countered before practically fleeing into the crowd. _Wow, an actual ‘thank you’. How long has it been since I got one of those?_

“Hey, Buffy!” Dawn called out in relief when she saw her sister return from her latest slayage. “You get it?”

“Poof!” Buffy agreed, making a little exploding gesture with her hands.

“Despite the fact that I am once more a demon, I am glad that you destroyed one of brethren,” Anya said in the perky way she always had about her. “Especially since it was a man.”

Buffy rolled her eyes as she sat back down at the table to try to resume enjoying her Bronze night. “Not all men are evil, you know,” she felt obliged to point out.

“That’s funny coming from you,” Anya pointed out. “What with the fact that all the men you’ve ever dated have fled town afterwards.” It appeared that Anya wasn’t about to let something like the fact that they’d just started speaking again this week detract from her usual bluntness.

For once, Buffy didn’t mind, though. “They all had their reasons,” she insisted, “and I was a part of those reasons.”

“I see,” Anya said, somewhat huffily. “So you now approve of men who leave you behind, sobbing and heartbroken at the altar, while they run away to god knows where, only to come back and say that they want to get together again even though you’re a demon now and they _still_ refuse to marry you but would rather run around meddling in their friends’ love-lives instead?”

Buffy had lost the question somewhere around the middle of Anya’s rant. She got the intent, however. “I’m not talking about Xander,” she assured the vengeance demon. “I still don’t know _what_ he was thinking, although I’m siding with a classic male fear of commitment.”

Anya frowned and nodded before taking another sip of her martini. “I’d concluded that as well,” she agreed.

“But not all men are like that,” Dawn felt the need to add her two cents.

“Oh, of course not,” Anya retorted sarcastically, “because your sister’s boyfriends have _never_ left her…” She directed a pointed gaze to the black leather duster Buffy was wearing.

Buffy hugged the jacket in question closer to her in response. “Yeah, they left me,” she agreed, “but that doesn’t make it all their fault.”

“No?” Anya retorted.

Buffy sighed. “Angel and I couldn’t work around the whole losing his soul issue,” she ticked off on her fingers. “My refusal to face the issue contributed just as much to our break-up as his. I didn’t love Riley the way he wanted me to. We weren’t looking for the same thing out of our relationship, so I can’t really blame him for moving on. And Spike…” She paused, stroking the leather over her thigh absentmindedly under the table. “Spike and I got caught up too much in the pain. I refused to acknowledge that he loved me; he refused to accept that I didn’t.”

Her tone had gotten wistful during this speech, but her confidence returned after she’d finished discussing her current love. “There, you see? In each case, it was _both_ of us that had issues to work out.”

“Well, sure, if you want to be mature about it,” Anya sulked, downing the rest of her drink in one gulp. “You know, it’s people like you that put vengeance demons out of work.”

Dawn cast her a confused look. “I thought you said the vengeance business was expanding every year,” she pointed out.

“It is,” Anya said brightly. “I was talking about hypothetically.”

Buffy couldn’t help but smile at that. Once you just accepted that strange, _strange_ things came out of Anya’s mouth, she actually wasn’t so bad to be around. Funny how she’d never bothered to notice that before… _You mean, didn’t bother to care before_ , her mind nipped that little delusion right in the bud.

“So you and Spike screwed up,” Anya had gone on in the meantime. “Why are you still toting around his duster like a trophy then?”

“Not like a trophy,” Buffy insisted quickly. “As a reminder.”

“Of what? How much the two of you were messed up?”

“Of the things that _weren’t_ messed up,” Dawn answered for her. “More of a momento, right?”

“And a way of letting him know I forgive him when he comes back,” Buffy added with a soft smile.

Anya rolled her eyes. “He’s not coming back,” she informed Buffy matter-of-factly. Off of the horrified looks she got from the two sisters, she let out an exasperated sigh. “Hello? Vengeance demon? I’ve seen this a thousand times before.” She punctuated her speech by throwing back her head and swallowing the rest of her drink. She refused to let the fact that her glass had been empty ruin the drama of the moment. “They _never_ come back,” she said with finality.

“Spike is different,” Buffy insisted. “He won’t leave me.”

“Already did?” Anya pointed out.

“He told Clem he was coming back,” Dawn protested, just as disturbed by the idea of Spike not returning as her sister.

“They all say that,” Anya shrugged it off.

“No,” Buffy took several deep breaths to calm herself, “all the _bad_ relationships end with the guy not coming back. That’s all you really see in your work, isn’t it? The worst of the worst relationships?”

“So I know what men are capable of,” Anya argued.

“But you don’t know what the _good_ men are capable of because you never get called in on those cases,” Dawn caught on to her sister’s argument.

Anya shrugged. “They’re all the same. They screw up; you move on and find a new source of orgasms.” She eyed a guy over at the bar before deciding that he really wasn’t her type after all.

“Then why haven’t you moved on?” Dawn pointed out. “You said things were over between you and Xander, so why not find a new ‘orgasm friend’?”

“Dawn!” Buffy’s eyes widened in horror.

Dawn rolled her eyes. “I’ve known Anya for three years now, and I’ve never been deaf,” she said matter-of-factly. “Don’t act surprised that I know the word.”

“Sorry,” Buffy said with a sheepish shake of her head. “I got into ‘protective mom’ mode. Won’t happen again.”

“That’s beside the point,” Dawn gave Buffy a forgiving smile. “So, why not, Anya?”

The vengeance demon couldn’t come up with a good defense, so she decided to attack instead. “Buffy hasn’t moved on, either,” she pointed out.

“That’s because I’m not planning on moving on,” Buffy countered. “I’m going to stick it out and fix things. I figured it was about time I really _tried_. And, after all Spike’s done for me, it’s the least I can do.”

“ ‘Stick it out’?” Anya repeated incredulously. “The vamp is _long_ gone. There’s nothing left to fix!”

“He’ll come back,” Buffy bit her lip nervously. “He has to…”

Anya sighed. “What if he does?” she conceded. “Just for the sake of argument. What are you going to do then? ‘I had fun using you, so can we just be friends now?’ You honestly think that’ll go over well? ‘Cause it sure didn’t work for Xander…”

“I want a relationship,” Buffy insisted. “We just have a lot to work out first.”

“So, what if you work it out?” It seemed to be Anya’s night to play devil’s advocate. “What then? Is he going to be your boyfriend? Live a nice, normal life with you? Don’t think I haven’t heard you going on about the suburban dream like it’s the greatest thing since sliced bread… And, when you think about it, why is sliced bread really that great? I mean, all you can really do with it is make sandwiches. And, while sandwiches _are_ popular, they’re certainly not the be-all and end-all of bread. Why, back in the 1500s when I was called to do vengeance for—”

“Anya!” Buffy cut in on the excessively lengthy rant. Anya gave her a confused look like she couldn’t fathom what Buffy’s objection to the abrupt and random topic shift was. “Your point?” Buffy clarified.

Anya nodded in understanding. “Suppose you get him back,” her mind turned back onto its previous track, “what then? He’s still a vampire; you’re still the Slayer. Do you really think that can work? _How_ can you make that work?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Buffy insisted, “not if we love each other.”

“Really?” Anya pressed. “You’ve honestly got a plan to make the two of your lives fit together? ‘Cause, I don’t care how much Spike loved you, I doubt he ever managed to get that far. Not much of a planning type, you know?”

Buffy frowned slightly. “It shouldn’t matter,” she insisted. “We should be able to work it out as it happens.”

“ _Should_ ,” Anya agreed…

* * *

“You all right?” Dawn asked as they headed upstairs that night. “I mean, what with Anya…”

“I think Anya’s got some issues with relationships in general right now,” Buffy agreed with a wry grin.

Dawn managed a small smile as well. “Spike will come back,” she said confidently.

“I know.” Buffy wrapped her arms around her waist and leaned back against the frame of Dawn’s door, watching the teenager get ready for bed.

Dawn looked at her askance. “You got something to say?” she demanded. “’Cause I’d kinda like to change without the wigginess of being watched.”

Buffy bit her lip. “There’s nothing left,” she finally admitted.

Dawn’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“All the videos,” Buffy explained. “I’ve watched them all. I guess they didn’t really have time to put up any new ones what with being arrested and all…”

“That was kind of a chaotic time all around,” Dawn agreed, sitting on her bed with a sigh. “So, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy admitted. “There’s so much I still want to know, and I kinda can’t go to the source, y’know?”

“Like what?” Dawn asked curiously.

Buffy bit back a rueful laugh. “You know I slept with the guy for four months and I never even knew his last name?”

“Oh,” Dawn fiddled with her sheet. “Yeah, that’s pretty…bad.” She grimaced at the lameness of that statement.

Buffy smiled slightly in acknowledgment of that fact. “And Anya’s got a point. Did Spike have any idea where he wanted our relationship to go? I have no idea.”

“I’d tell you to go talk to him about it,” Dawn agreed, “but…”

“No Spike to ask,” Buffy finished the thought. “Dammit, the one time I actually want to talk about our relationship…” She let the words hang in the air, feeling the stinging pain in her heart as she remembered her previous violent responses to his desire to discuss the subject.

“There’s one place…” Dawn realized thoughtfully.

“I know,” Buffy grimaced, “but I’d feel kind of guilty. I mean, seeing all Spike’s secret fantasies? His hopes and dreams? Not to mention the wig-factor.”

“Is it really that much worse than watching all the videos?” Dawn asked reasonably enough.

Buffy shrugged. “I at least had a semi-legitimate excuse for that one,” she pointed out.

“I don’t know if it matters,” Dawn bit her lip, “but I don’t think he’d mind. At least, he wouldn’t have before,” she amended.

Buffy nodded slowly. “It matters,” she agreed, turning to leave Dawn to sleep.

“Oh, and Buffy?”

She froze in her tracks and then smiled at the name Dawn whispered in the quiet of the house. She should’ve known his name would be beautiful…

* * *

“Sometimes I feel like no one appreciates me,” Buffy confessed, looking up into his eyes. “No one realizes how much pressure I’m under.”

“Whole world restin’ on your shoulders,” Spike agreed in that soft, rough voice he got in his more tender moments. “Yeah, that’d be tough.”

The real Buffy smiled softly. The conversation brought her back to the girl she’d saved tonight. Spike was right; it _was_ tough doing the work she did with so little thanks, but every so often it was worth it…

“I’m the sure the Big Bad vampire thing is difficult, too,” Buffy’s voice went on. “Keeping up that sexy, dangerous image without killing humans. Must be hard.”

“’m still sexy an’ dangerous?” Spike asked softly.

“Oh god, yeah,” real Buffy couldn’t help but say slightly breathlessly.

Her voice echoed her sentiments. “Yes. You are still the Big Bad. And I love you for it.”

“You love me?” Spike’s voice sounded ragged.

“Yes. I love you, Spike. I’m tired of fighting it, of being alone. And I think you’re tired of being alone, too. So we should not be alone anymore. Together.”

“Tell me you love me again,” he demanded, sounding needy, more desperate than she’d ever heard him before.

“I love you.” The words sounded plastic, sterile, the way they were uttered.

“I love you…” The real Buffy couldn’t stand to let the phrase stand as it was and so imbued her own words with every fiber of her being.

Spike was sobbing softly. “You ‘ave no idea how much I wanna hear…” he trailed off.

“Shh,” the artificial, not-quite-Buffy voice sounded again, “don’t worry about it. I’m here now, and I’m not going to leave you. I love you. I’ll make everything better.”

The program record came to an end then, and Buffy wondered what had disturbed it. Was that when Glory’s minions had come in? Or had it been something else?

Absentmindedly, she detached Willow’s playback module from the Buffybot’s severed head. Her likeness smiled up at her beatifically, its eyes empty now that it was deactivated.

“What on earth were you thinking?” Buffy couldn’t help but shake her head ruefully as she viewed the remains of the robot.

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips when she realized the answer, though. “I don’t want to be alone anymore, either,” she whispered, heading back upstairs. “I love you, Spike,” she said, fully aware of the irony that her own emotions now mirrored the Bot’s. “And, I promise, I’ll make everything better…”


	8. All’s Well That Ends Well…Right?

“You’re sure you’re ready for this?” Dawn asked, watching her sister’s confidence falter the closer they got to the crypt.

Buffy shook off the nervous butterflies in her stomach and nodded with newfound assuredness. “No more running away,” she insisted. “Besides,” she added with a rueful grimace, “it’s not like he’s even there.” She came to a halt just outside the crypt door.

For an instant overpowering memories assaulted her. Her kicking the door wide open, stalking right in, heaving Spike up by his lapels, kissing him, loving him… OK, so she was drifting off into fantasy now. But it was a very happy fantasy.

Still, she’d been putting off this task for too long… She knocked on the crypt door.

There were some scuffling sounds inside, and then the door opened a crack, allowing one red eye to peer out at the visitors. Instantly, the door opened as if it was breathing in relief as much as the crypt’s temporary caretaker.

“Hi, Slayer!” Clem said, chipper, giving them a little finger wave. “How’s it going, Dawn?”

“Good,” Dawn said with a small smile. “You?”

“Never better.”

Clem’s smile faltered for a second, and Buffy shook her head. If it was at all possible, Clem was even _worse_ at lying than Spike was. She decided to let it drop for the moment, though.

“Sorry about the false pretense,” she gave him an apologetic smile, “but we’re here on post-apocalypse business.”

Clem waved them in with a weeping gesture of his arm. “Come on in,” he said brightly. “Feel free to take the comfy chair. Would you like some chips? Salsa? Juice? I’m out of soda, but I could make lemonade or…coffee? Would you like some coffee?”

“We’re fine, Clem,” Buffy assured him with a laugh. A sudden morbid thought struck her – according to her old belief system, Clem was a demon and therefore inherently evil so he must be killed. She watched the friendly demon’s floppy ears bounce happily as he devoured a bag of M&M’s, and suddenly felt a gnawing deep in her stomach at the thought that she could’ve stumbled upon Clem during patrol and slayed him for no other reason than her preconceived notions…

“Where d’ya think?”

Dawn’s question broke her out of her reverie, and she began to study the crypt wall as well. “It was looking down…” she added thoughtfully.

“One of those skulls?” Dawn suggested.

Buffy grimaced. “That’s where they put it in the Magic Box. Can’t they at least be original?”

“So…you’re complaining because your pathetic, wanna-be enemies play a bad game of hide-and-seek?” Dawn teased.

“No,” Buffy protested, “I’m complaining because my pathetic, wanna-be enemies play a game of hide-and-seek that’s biased against short people.” She looked up at the ledge in despair.

“Have no fear,” Dawn giggled, “it’s Not-Midget Girl to the rescue!”

“‘Midget’?!” Buffy exclaimed in outrage as Dawn tugged the chair over so that she could stand on it and reach the ledge.

“What are we looking for?” a voice suddenly asked right behind Buffy’s ear.

“Gah!” she screeched in startled surprise. She hadn’t realized Clem was that close.

“Sorry!” Clem put his hands up defensively and flinched backwards. “Please, don’t slay me!”

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief, resting one hand over her racing heart. “You just startled me is all,” she assured him. A frown marred her brow. “You do know that I’m not going to slay you, right?” she asked, concerned. “My demon friends are off the hook.”

“Cool,” Clem nodded, having picked up a bag of pretzels somewhere in the interim and now munching on them. “I just figured not because Spike and all, y’know…”

One thing that perpetually astounded Buffy was Clem’s ability to never judge or hold a grudge. It was something she had a _very_ hard time with. She glanced over to see that Dawn was too busy balancing precariously on the chair to pay attention to them and quietly whispered to Clem, “How can you stand to be around me?”

The demon looked shocked by this statement. “Why wouldn’t I?” he wondered.

“You saw…” her shoulders tensed, “what I did to Spike.” A flush of shame crossed her face. “He was your friend. So how can you still talk to me?”

“If I refused to talk to everyone that did something I didn’t like, I wouldn’t have a lot of friends, now would I?” Clem argued reasonably enough.

Buffy gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks,” she said, “for the forgiveness and all…”

Clem batted a clawed hand in the air dismissively. “You didn’t do anything to me,” he insisted. “I’m not the one who has anything to forgive.”

“Yeah…” Buffy agreed sadly. “Have you…heard from him?” she ventured to ask.

“No!”

And there he went with the really bad lying again. However, at that moment Dawn let out a cry of victory, distracting them.

“Found it!” she exclaimed triumphantly, hopping down from the chair, skull in hand.

“Great, you found it!” Clem said enthusiastically. “Uh…what did you find?”

Dawn plucked the video camera out of the skull and dangled it in front of them proudly. “Creepy Trio camera removed,” she announced.

Clem gulped. “That thing hasn’t been… _filming_ me, has it?” he asked worriedly.

“Don’t worry,” Buffy assured him, “we destroyed all the receiving equipment _long_ before you moved in.”

“Oh, good,” Clem was now completely unconcerned about the hidden camera in his temporary home. “Well, is that it then?” He seemed in an inordinate hurry to usher them out.

And, when Buffy thought about it, he hadn’t invited them in as quickly as he usually did. She raised a suspicious eyebrow in his direction. “Anything been happening around here lately?” she asked casually, moving to sit on the sarcophagus.

Dawn caught the demon’s shifty behavior as well and moved to settle in the armchair she’d just returned to its proper place in front of the television.

“No, no,” Clem tried to sound sincere and failed miserably, “just the usual reruns.” His nervous eyes flicked over to the trapdoor.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking,” Buffy began innocently, “I feel kind of bad about trashing the downstairs. Have you bothered to fix it up yet?”

“What?” Clem got this cornered look in his eyes. “Er, um…yes! All fixed!” he insisted.

“Really?” Dawn persisted. “Maybe we should take a look, see if there’s any work left to do…”

“I feel _really_ guilty,” Buffy insisted sweetly, getting up and heading for the dark hole in the floor.

“Wait!” Clem practically leapt in front of her. “You really don’t want to—”

“Mustn’t be found,” a weak, scared-sounding voice whimpered. “’S not how the game’s played. Hide myself, hide my shame. Far, far away…”

Buffy’s face paled as she recognized the slurred accent even though the voice sounded distorted, distant… “Spike?” she asked in a daze, sudden hope blossoming in her breast.

Clem barely kept his footing as the Slayer shoved him aside, not even seeing him as she dove down into the bedroom. Dawn was right on her heels, although she took the time to actually descend the ladder properly. She gasped at the sight before her, and Clem grimaced behind her.

“If you wanted to stay hidden, you shouldn’t have said anything,” Clem said apologetically. “Sorry.”

No one seemed to hear him.

Buffy remained transfixed by the huddled figure curled into a ball next to the charred remains of the bed. His clothes were dirty and torn, and his knees obscured his face, only allowing her to see the wild dark curls with platinum tips. There was nothing in the figure’s posture to indicate that he was her formerly-powerful lover. However, she knew him instantly, nevertheless.

“Spike…” The whispered name escaped her lips like a prayer.

He looked up her at that, his eyes looking terrified, like a cornered rabbit. “Not real, not real,” he mumbled to himself. “More nightmares to torment me.”

“Spike?” A frown creased Buffy’s brow. “Are you all right?”

“Nightmare won’t leave,” he whimpered. “Nightmare mustn’t leave. Over and over, screaming.” His eyes squeezed shut tight. “Scream then,” he instructed her. “I’m listening. I hear you now.”

“Spike, what are you talking about?” There was a deep, sinking feeling in Buffy’s stomach as she realized that something was seriously wrong with him.

“Hurt the girl.” He waved one hand in the air. “Tell me. Tell me how I hurt the girl.” He buried his head back in his hands and curled up even tighter than before.

“Clem?” Buffy abruptly turned to the demon. “How long has he been like this?”

“He just turned up a couple of hours ago,” Clem shrugged. “I haven’t been able to get much out him. He freaked out when he heard you at the door, wanted to hide… Who knows how long he’s been like this?” he concluded.

All-out panic began to overtake Buffy as she cautiously walked over to the sobbing vampire. “Spike?” she whispered softly, comfortingly. “Do you know who I am?”

“Luv.” Spike whispered so quietly she could barely hear him. Then he shook his head violently. “No! Don’t love, never loved, can’t love. Not anything, a monster.” His fist struck his jaw with bruising intensity.

“Spike!” Buffy exclaimed in dismay, catching his fist before he could do himself further damage.

He looked up at her in shock and surprise, obviously thinking her to be a figment of his troubled mind.

“It’s me,” she said slowly and carefully. “It’s Buffy.” Her fingers reached out to gently stroke his cheek.

He scrambled away as if he’d been burned, retreating further into the rumble. “No, mustn’t touch,” he insisted.

“Spike…” she reached out for him once more.

“It’s _wrong_!” His voice dropped its usual south London drawl for this exclamation, making him sound strangely like Giles.

Buffy was taken aback by the odd thought, but then shook it off. “No, it’s OK,” she insisted. “I’m not mad. Look, see?” She gestured to the coat she was wearing, slipping it off as she did so to hand it to him.

He shivered in response. “He hurt you,” he muttered. “Dead now, must stay dead…”

“Who’s dead?” Buffy asked, confused, stepping cautiously closer once more.

He looked up at her with the most piteous gaze she’d ever seen. “Spike,” he answered simply.

“You’re not dead,” Buffy informed him carefully. “You’re right here.” She had reached him once again now and cautiously wrapped the duster around his shivering body. He flinched at first but let her finish her task.

“Sorry, luv,” he whispered, eyes closed once more. “Weak…so weak…been weak all along. Shoulda stayed away…”

“I’m glad you’re back,” Buffy insisted. “Spike…” Her hand caught his chin, tilting it upward so that he was looking at her…or, at least, he would be when he opened his eyes again. Her other hand remained on his back, holding him in a loose embrace. “Spike, look at me,” she pleaded.

“’m not your whore!”

The vehement tones sounded so much like those of the Spike she knew that she almost breathed a sigh of relief. The accusation was less pleasant, however.

“I know you’re not,” she assured him. “You’re your own man – a good man. I get that now.”

The tension in his body seemed to fade at her soothing words. “What do you want of me?” he practically whimpered.

“Don’t worry,” Buffy cooed softly. “I’m going to find out what’s wrong with you, and then I’m going to make whoever did this pay…”

“Only I pay…”

“Uh…yeah,” she said, confused. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here, do some research, find out whatever spell this is…”

“Can’t,” he insisted stubbornly, curling in on himself once more. “Can’t ask… Not after what I tried to do…”

“Don’t worry about that,” she assured him, glad that he seemed to be getting more coherent. “I forgive you, Spike.” Her lips gently brushed his forehead. “OK?”

“Shouldn’t forgive,” he chastised lightly. “Shouldn’t forget.”

“Maybe not, but I do forgive you,” she insisted. “Just like you forgave me. See?” she managed a shy smile. “We can still work things out.”

“Wrong…” he repeated. There seemed to be a bit of a question in his tone this time, though.

“No, it’s not,” she informed him. “You were right; it was never wrong. I was just too blind to see…” She took a deep breath. “I love you, Spike…”

His eyes finally snapped open at that and for the first time their gazes locked.

And Buffy gasped and staggered backwards. Whatever was behind those eyes wasn’t the man she knew…

“Yeah, can’t imagine where he picked that up,” Clem dared to comment. “He mentioned something about beetles, but it didn’t make much sense.”

“P-Picked what up?” Buffy stuttered, still horrified at the seeming stranger in her lover’s body.

“The soul,” Clem said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“S-Soul?” Dawn seemed pretty shaken up as well.

“Yeah,” Clem agreed, “I’ve been having a hell of a time trying to figure out whether Spike’s still in there at all or what.”

Shaking, Buffy turned back to look at Spike once more, biting back her sobs at the transformation her lover had undergone. It had taken Angel, what? A hundred years to recover from getting his soul?

“Got it for you,” he whispered apologetically.

“Shh,” she soothed him instantly, not being able to stand seeing pain on that face even if she didn’t know whether the Spike she knew was still inside. “It’s OK.” Her arms wrapped around him once more as tears started to run down her cheeks.

“Buffy?” he whimpered softly against her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, baby,” she soothed. “I’m here. I love you no matter what. We’ll get through this together, Spike. You and me, just like you always wanted. OK?”

“The spark burns,” he sobbed raggedly.

“I know, but I’ll make it stop. I’ll get you back, make everything better again.” She pulled him up to his feet, still holding his body against hers. “I’ll take care of you…”

“Buffy?” Dawn began nervously, tears in her own eyes. “What if he’s not in there anymore?”

“He is,” Buffy insisted vehemently, fighting back the wave of despair that threatened to overcome her. “I love him now; it can’t end like this.” She stroked his back softly as he nuzzled into her throat. “He has to be…” she added distantly before leading Spike over to the stairs.

“C’mon, love,” she whispered into his hair, “let’s go home…”


End file.
